“Part of our... nature...” The vord shivered. “Within each queen is an imperative to remain separate. Pure. Untainted by our contact with other beings. And to remove any queen that shows signs of corruption. Beginning several years ago, my junior queens have universally attempted to remove me.” Her face was touched by a faint frown. “I do not understand. She did no physical harm to me. Yet...”

“She hurt you.”

The Queen nodded, very slowly. “I had to remove their capacity to produce more queens lest they gather numbers to remove me. Which has hurt us all. Weakened us. By all rights, this world should have been vord five years ago.” Her eyes narrowed, and she turned her faceted gaze upon Invidia. “You acted to protect me.”

“You hardly needed it,” Invidia said.

“You did not know that.”

“True.”

The vord Queen tilted her head, studying Invidia intently. She braced herself for the unpleasant intrusion of the Queen’s mind—but it did not come.

“Then why?” the Queen asked.

“The younger queen clearly would not have permitted me to live.”

“You might have struck at both of us.”

Invidia frowned. True enough. The two queens had been so intent upon one another, they would hardly have been able to react to a sudden attack from Invidia. She could have called up fire and obliterated them both.

But she hadn’t.

“You could have fled,” the Queen said.

Invidia smiled faintly. She gestured to the creature latched upon her chest. “Not far enough.”

“No,” the vord said. “You have no other place to go.”

“I do not,” Invidia agreed.

“When something is held in common,” the Queen asked, “is it considered a bond?”

Invidia considered her answer for a moment—and not for the benefit of the Queen. “It is often the beginning of one.”

The vord looked at her fingers. Their dark-nailed tips were stained with the younger queen’s blood. “Do you have children of your own?”

“No.”

The Queen nodded. “It is... unpleasant to see them harmed. Any of them. I am pleased that you are not distracted by such a thing at this time.” She looked up and squared her shoulders, straightening her spine—mirroring Invidia herself. “What is the proper Aleran etiquette when an assassination interrupts dinner?”

Invidia found a small smile on her mouth. “Perhaps we should repair the furniture.”

The vord tilted her head again. “I do not have that knowledge.”

“When my mother died, my father apprenticed me to all the finest master artisans of the city for a year at a time. I think mainly to be rid of me.” She rose and considered the broken table, the scattered splinters. “Come. This is a more demanding discipline than flying or calling fire. I will show you.”

* * *

They had just sat back down at the repaired table when the whistling, trilling alarm shrieks of wax spiders filled the air.